Across the Bridge
by Unsheathed-Gyroscope
Summary: Amelia Oxedis is a mercenary and a parttime jetbike racer, until she accidentally knocks out a Xeno, and turns her life upside down. Rated for coarse language and violence. Please R&R, this is my first fanfic.
1. Prologues

**-- Across the Bridge --**

Fanfic by  
Unsheathed-Gyroscope

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Freelancer, nor do I own any of the characters, systems or ships within... except the characters, systems and ships I made up, of course.

**IMPORTANT Note:** I don't care if it's spelled Dom Kovash! Daun Cavashe looks cooler. And fits the pronunciation. This is based off a mod I was going to make for Freelancer but I stopped after designing the ships, weapons and systems because Milkshape went sour (no pun intended). So I decided to put all fifty-something ships, thirty-plus systems and a couple new factions in. The main characters WILL be featured (pretty much all of them) and there'll be a bit of romance between characters, but not telling who. The story is set 50 years after the events of Freelancer, and read on to find out how the heck all those wrinklies are still alive here.

There are TWO prologues, heaps of chapters and an epilogue (and hopefully a sequel). Should prove interesting, cuz I have no clue as to how long this'll end up.

I'll answer your questions in review so that things don't look like crap. This is the only rant I'll go on with.

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_-- Prologue One - Simple Patrol --_

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Unknown Omicron system, 90k from Order Base Ramses - Order Battleship Cairo

"Report, Colonel," a very important-looking man stopped beside a wall of computer monitors. He was in his thirties but had already lost most of his thinning grey hair, and his skin was pale because of the constant radiation bombardment he'd had to face as a Red Hessian in the Omega systems.

"No activity as of y-- wait, scratch that. I've got multiple incoming contacts. Not Order, Nomad or otherwise... they are cloaked, but have actual pilots, as shown by our initial scans. They're carrying very odd weapons..."

"Do not engage yet. Look..."

The man pointed past the female officer's shoulder at a whole ring of Nomad-tagged fighters (the Order had designed a system to show faction on the scanners). These seemed to be chasing the fighters for their focus seemed not to be them but the other fighters.

The unknown fighters broke formation - one stayed on its course to the battleship while the other three cut their engines and spun around to attack the oncoming nomad ships.

"Launch two wings of Order fighters to assist them. If the unknown vessels attack, launch another to destroy them."

Seconds later, ten Order ships poured out of the two docking bays and shot off to where the action was.

The first of the unknown vessels came into view. It was a deep green colour - two huge, energy-lined prongs adorned the top of the ship's hull, extending from the back of the craft to over ten metres in front of the main body. Three black weapons sat on each, and five engines the same colour were mounted on the back - one each on the prongs and three on the main body of the ship. It had obviously decloaked when the Nomads arrived...

The commander of the battleship opened a comm channel to the unknown vessel.

"Unknown craft, this is The Order Battleship Cairo. Please state your designation."

Surprisingly, a broken reply came.

"I ... Leta Ye, ... Daun Cav... Nomads have attack... my communications are dama... I need to dock..."

The commander held the link for a while as his tech administrator enhanced what was just received.

"I am Leta Ye, an emissary of the Daun Cavasche. The nomads have attacked us, and my communications are damaged. I need to dock for repairs..."

The commander reopened the comm channel. "I hear you. Dock, and my mechanics will do what we can for your ship. You'll have to decloak first though."

"My ship is decloaked, but it gives no readings to regular sensors. It... No, my communications have died --"

Meanwhile, the Order ships had since reached the battlefield - and were not fairing too well. Three had been destroyed while five remaining had lost weapons or wings, and the other two had lost shields and were taking a beating. However, of the fifty-seven Nomads who had attacked, only twenty-three remained.

Just as a fourth Order ship succumbed to the barrage, things started going sour. A nearby planet, known as Alla, exploded, and a deep purple energy surge erupted from the middle, aimed straight at the Order Battleship.

* * *

_-- Prologue Two - Xeno Pests --_

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* * *

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"Wonderful," Amelia thought as she lay on her very uninteresting bed in her apartment in the middle of Manhattan's capital, also called Manhattan. (She thought this was very original.) "I somehow managed to get on the Xeno hit list because I accidentally knocked an undercover agent out in a bar. Wonderful."

Three days ago, she'd been in the gym section of the local pub, working out, when a shady character approached her as she was unloading on the punching bag and grabbed her, and just in time to end up on a collision course with a recoiling elbow, which just so happened to break the guy's nose and give him a concussion. Amelia was one who liked to work out a lot, unlike most Manhattan girls, who flirted with criminals and mercenaries. She hated flying and she rarely stayed in her house for more than 10 minutes because she was busy working out.

Of course the Xenos found out about her little accident and ended up putting her on their kill-on-sight list. She knew she'd be lucky to get to the gym and back without having to knock another shady undercover agent out. Haha. Undercover agent. Xenos surely aren't that organised.

But, true to their indirect word, the previous day while she was out getting food she had been shot at by a passing ship and then attacked subsequently by a couple black-clad trigger-happy Xenos. She knocked one out (and the other one was kicked off the skywalk she was travelling on, and ended up being spiked on a communications antenna) escaped only to be attacked by a further three. She had a great day apart from that.

But this time was different. Walking back to her fridge for a drink of milk, she heard a roar and glass shattering. She looked out her window and saw the next-door neighbour's house on fire and a black-clad Xeno with a rocket launcher escaping down the street.

"Holy shit! If someone got killed because I accidentally elbowed someone in the nose, I am gonna be more than just knocking those fools out!" She gulped down her beverage (and coughed half of it up anyway because she'd downed it too fast) and sprinted over the featureless concrete and into the burning building next door.

And straight back out again with three more Xenos chasing her.

"So it was a set-up. Hah," she thought as she ducked, rolled forward and came up facing the assailants. She leaped up and then skidded under the leader's legs, pushing them both outwards in the process. She thanked herself for putting her leather jacket on top of her stack of clothes and the smooth concrete for that, in the second that the assailants had to wonder what the hell was going on. They spun around and aimed at her, their guns blurting out lasers faster than the eye could follow.

And every single one ploughed right into their leader's unconscious figure, behind which was a very annoyed Amelia Oxedis. She threw the limp body at the right assailant as they both flinched at the thought of their demotions and then leaped at the left one. The right assailant careened off the street and into a man-made abyss while the second was thrown straight into the path of a passing Pelican Freighter, whose engine burned the helpless wench to a crisp.

She dusted her hands and jumped back over the fence to her own apartment.

Spotting the rocket launching assailant who was inspecting the damage she cried out, "Try that again and I'll be the one rocketing your ass back to Ouray where you belong!"

She laughed and had a second drink, this time a simple beer.

Although her inside emotions weren't so cocky. She knew she'd have to leave the planet.

And she hated flying.


	2. Cat to Water

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_-- Chapter I - Cat to Water -_

* * *

Amelia frowned as she inspected the rather poor-looking used ships surrounding her. She was looking at the best ship dealer on Manhattan, and she had two hundred thousand credits to buy a ship and some decent weaponry. One particular ship took her fancy, a used Patriot.

"Aah, that lass used to be the steed of one of the finest LSF fighters in history. It might need a second clean-out, I still haven't been able to get the radioactive guts out of her cockpit. Other than that it's in perfect condition. At least the pilot died instantly rather than rotting from radiation first," the dealer said to her. She gagged and peered inside. As described there was some green slime covering the seat and the controls. She'd have it repaired by the equipment dealer though. No problem...

The dealer was thin and tiny. He was barely Amelia's height, one and two-thirds of a metre. He seemed to despise all the ships he sold as if he had something that could own a hundred of them. He also had a menacing glare, which seemed to be inhuman - like something had twisted it to the point where it was no longer normal.

She handed over all 7000 credits and then walked all ten paces to the equipment dealer. She saw a very nice-looking weapon over in the corner, enclosed in a glass case.

"Aah, that's not for sale. It's my most prized weapon. I have two, the other one's in storage elsewhere. It is called the CERBERUS, but nothing else is known about it... it's hell powerful though. Some mercenary gave it to me... I think his name was Dylan. He went by the name Psychotic. He's a bit of a criminal but he's a great guy. I don't know where he is now - maybe up exploring. He does that for a living and he gets millions for it.  
"If you're outfitting that Patriot over there, I'll put some good weapons on it. A freelancer cashed some nice weapons in a while back, probably the best that that Patriot can handle. Just watch your power meter. They eat it up like there's no tomorrow," the short, fat dealer said. His face was pockmarked by scars and there was a tattoo covering his entire right arm. He wore thick sunglasses as well even though he obviously wasn't much of a pilot.

"Yeah, OK, so what kind of weapons you got?" Amelia questioned, and brushed back a couple loose strands of black hair.

"That all depends," the wiry dealer responded with a meaningful glance at her wallet.

"I got one hundred and ninety-three thousand. What can you give me for that?"

"The works. Let's see... Scorpions, Drails, Lavablades, Justices, Stunpulses, Heavy Starbeams. I'd suggest Drails and Scorpions, but you take your pick. Oh, and the Drails will need some repairing, but I can do that anyway."

"Gimme a stunpulse, two drails and a scorpion," While Amelia wasn't a fan of flying, she knew her stuff when it came to ships. "Oh, and a clean-up. There's... uh... some radioactive stuff smeared all over the cockpit. Might need a new one."

"Sure, I got some decent repairmen. Gimme... let's see... seven thousand for the weapons and six hundred for the clean up. I'd suggest you get some nanobots and shield batteries, if it's freelancing you do. I still haven't gotten your name yet."

"Amelia," she said while inspecting the shields.

"Aren't you gonna think up some kind of tag? You know, like Psychotic did?" the dealer asked with a frown.

"Maybe... Not yet though. I'll just go by Amelia Oxedis for now."

"Fair enough," The dealer gave a half-grimace.

"So, would you be looking to buy mines, shields, cruise disruptors...?" the dealer asked after noticing Amelia's interest in the other weapony.

"Hell yes. I got money to burn. Gimme the Guardian shield, a Wasp disruptor... oh, and a countermeasure dropper. And a Deluxe Thruster. Not sure about mines though..."

The dealer looked dumbfounded that this girl seemed so trigger-happy and destructive. He looked anxiously over at his prized weapon and then quickly looked back at Amelia who'd stacked the things she wanted in a small pile in front of him while she was checking out the mine rack.

"Gimme a... Razor mine. Yeah. Razor mine. And as much ammunition as all this'll handle, and a full stock of nanobots and batteries," Amelia announced, almost blurted.

"Uhh... you sure you can afford that? It's gonna cost you... hmm... three thousand seven hundred for the mine dropper, and three thousand six hundred for the shield. Another eighteen hundred for the disruptor, one thousand for the countermeasure dropper, three thousand for the thruster... and ten thousand for all the ammo. That's quite a bit of money, you know. Twenty-five thousand for all that, give or take. You'll probably need more than just a couple thousand for the repairs you'll have to undertake. Oh, and if your cockpit breaks you're dead. Even a tiny hole will make you literally explode."

"Wonderful..." Amelia gagged at the thought of the green slime that was being taken out with her cockpit which was once human flesh.

As soon as she'd gotten her parts mounted she instantly ran out of the room and got in her refurbished Patriot. Strapping herself in and pulling on her flight helmet she manoeuvred her way to the nearest pub and docked, purposely landing on a couple suspiciously black-clad people nearby, engines scorching them to their bones, and then some. All their boss would find would be a couple piles of ash. Amelia Oxedis was peeved, and if any Xeno came near her they'd be dead in seconds.

She leaped out and sprinted into the bar. Among others, she noticed a black-clad person over in the corner who she discerned was not a Xeno because of the way he didn't hide his face, and Michael King, an ex-LSF freelance pilot who was known for his incredible skill with light fighters. She knew King vaguely so she walked up to his table and sat down.

"Hey, Amelia! Never thought I'd see you here. You taking up piloting or something?" King recoiled and smacked his head on the wooden part of the seat, and grunted.

"Yeah, I got KOSed by the Xenos, so I think I'm gonna have to get used to flying. In fact I thought you might have a mission I could do for practice," Amelia spoke, blue eyes scanning the room just in case. She slung one sinewy arm over the back of the seat and crossed her left leg over her right.

"Sounds nasty," King responded with a frown and suddenly looked up to a second man standing over the table. "Hey, look what the tide brought in. Trent, nice to see you!" The man sat down next to Amelia with his mug of imported Sidewinder Fang. He had short, cleanly cut dark blond hair and eyes that could bore a hole in a wall just by looking at it. He wore the typical freelancer clothes - gloves, long-sleeved leather jacket and carried a pair of blasters on his hips. Amelia was just wearing a simple black short-sleeved leather jacket and jeans, as usual. And her trademark sunglasses, can't forget them. Apart from that only a pair of thick leather gloves warmed her up.

"Yeah, I need work. I'm finished prowling the Omicrons. You got anything big? One hundred kay?"

"Hey, hey. Trent. I don't got that much money. Orillion might, but I don't," King half-frowned, half-grimaced and took a swig of his Liberty Ale as Trent did his drink.

"Orillion? I didn't notice him. What might he give me?"

"Meh, I don't know. Ask him before he leaves."

"Sure thing. Maybe I can get myself some nice weaponry."

"Maybe you can."

And off Trent went. Amelia watched him sit down a couple tables away next to the black-clad guy she saw earlier. After a brief conversation the pair left the bar together.

"That's my buddy Edison Trent. He's one of the best pilots around, possibly the best," King noticed Amelia's questioning look and coninued. "He's got something like five hundred thousand kills under his belt, second only to Orillion himself."

Amelia coughed up the ale she just swallowed.

"Shit! How did he get that many?"

"He has ways. I only have a couple thousand from my LSF days. But anyway, down to business. You need work, correct?"

"Yes. Preferably killing Xenos."

"Well, go ask the bartender for the job board, and bring it here."

"Sure."

Amelia got up and slowly paced towards the bar, drinking in her surroundings like a sponge. She got on a bar stool and quickly asked the bartender for the job board before heading back in the same manner.

"So," King asked, "What have we got?"

"A bounty hunter job, kill Xenos in Sector 4D. Six thousand, should do for now."

"OK, let's head out."

King jumped up and jogged out, Amelia following behind. By the looks of things, King owned a Hawk Light Fighter, outfitted with some pretty neat guns. Amelia jumped in her new cockpit and gunned the engine. A roar signified it was on - she lifted off and shot out of the planet's atmosphere.

In front of her cockpit window a hologram popped up, outlining the waypoints and the difficulty. A man's voice came over the communications channel, and it wasn't King's.

"This is the mission comission. Amelia Oxedis, you and Michael King will travel to Sector 4D and attack any Xeno ships that are there. Their ships will be overlayed with an automatic targeter, so all you need do is shoot them. You can scan the ship for its hull strength and shields, which is highly recommended as well. These Xenos shouldn't be too hard, they'll be in Starfliers. Apart from that, good hunting!"

"Confirmed."

This time King's face showed up on the comm channel.

"Yo, Amelia. We'll do some basic training before we head out there. For a start, aim at me and pull the trigger. You won't damage my hull, just the shields. And only tap the trigger, OK?"

Amelia was shivering. She hated flying to the point where it was unbearable. But she did as she was asked. King's shields wavered but soon regenerated themselves.

"Good, now this time I want you to target me. You'll get a cross-section of my ship, and the status of its shields and hull. Just aim at me and tap the white button near the trigger."

Amelia moved her overlayed crosshairs over King's ship and did as she was told.

Soon she was a lot more comfortable with the basics of space flight, and, after entering formation with King, entered Cruise drive and shot off to her destination. She'd started to get used to flight and she wasn't quite so intent on throwing up, like she had been when she saw the green slime that used to be someone's intestines glued to the cockpit.

The HUD reminded her of an over-done computer game. Simply because the ships looked weird when shown in a green, white or red box which seemed to be five metres behind the ship itself when it was moving.

"Oh well," she thought.

Thirty kilometres later, she was startled awake (She'd fallen asleep?) by King yelling at her to wake up, since the Xenos had finally arrived. Seems like they were there for a while.

She gunned her engines, and as soon as the Xenos were in range she punched the afterburners for a second... and killed her engines. She knew this trick from jetbike racing, killing your engines to make you drift around corners. This time she drifted past the two Xeno Stargazers that had appeared, turning her ship to shoot at one as she passed it. Its shield were wasted after two shots. She saw the pilot scream (and heard it over the comm channel) as three solid blasts knocked out the engines and a fourth destroying the ship itself. An Advanced Scorpion came loose, and as she'd been instructed she pressed the "Tractor Beam" button. King, meanwhile, was busy owning a couple Starblasters dumb enough to go near him. All up there were ten - three Stargazers, and seven Starblasters - most of which were swarming King and his Hawk, who was elegantly swooping between shots, and two dead, one to each of the freelancers. At one point, King shot a Wasp missile at a Xeno just as he (she?) fired a dodgy Javelin missile. The wasp managed to fly straight into the tube.

Amelia jumped when a Xeno exploded, knocking her ship back. A piece of wing spun past her. She looked back in shock as King came in line with a Xeno and shot a Wasp to stop its killed drift. (She gasped, "They're learning our tricks!" over the comm channel. King laughed.) However that Xeno's ship was half-dead anyway, and she wondered how it was still intact with the engine on fire. (The oxygen must've been leaking severely to see the fire...)

"Warning. Entering sun's corona."

"What the f...!" Amelia swore and noticed the wing tips starting to melt slightly. She cut her engines this time and whipped around to face three Starlance heavy fighters who'd silently followed her.

"Surrender. We have you in a corner - either melt in the sun or come with us," the lead Xeno said matter-of-factly over the channel. Amelia groaned.

"Uhh... King, help!" she said over the private channel.  
"Ach, these bastards have Starlancers and Starblazes! They've gotta have some kind of base around here. My Hawk has lost its shield, so I'm going on hull and one less wing. Get out of the sun's corona and hope they don't have Hornets"  
"Incoming!" Amelia screamed as she watched a Starblaze in the distance shoot a bright red missile at King's ship. All she heard on the other end was a very staticy "Sh..."... and then nothing.

"King?" Amelia stuttered.  
"Yeah?" a familiar voice groaned.  
"I thought you got missiled"  
"Hah. I was lucky, the shield came back up as it hit me... that there was a Cannonball. Something you never see. They're the strongest missile I've ever seen. You might want to come here and help me"  
"So... that "sh" that I heard was a "shield restored", not a "shit"  
"Yeah"  
"OK, let's take these fools down"  
"Warning. Wing lost." The sound of the on-board computer broke the conversation.  
"Crap, I lost two of my wings! I gotta get out of here"  
This time a Xeno came through the channel.  
"You aren't going anywhere"  
"Yes I am, scum! Die!" She unloaded on the Starlance in front of her, the Stunpulse killing the ship's shield and, with a drift, shaved a wing off, the thruster and the shield. She promptly tractored all this up before leaving the corona. A blast followed soon after, this time more like an engine explosion. The Xeno she'd shot at had succumbed to the heat in the Sun's corona and exploded, the other two careening wildly into the sun, screaming all the way. King's voice echoed into the comm channel.  
"Whoa, nice one"  
"This... is fun. I thought flying was bad"  
"Indeed it is! Come on, there's only one left. The others were all killed when I wasped one of their cannonballs. Nice, eh"  
"Whoa... not bad."

Almost as soon as they destroyed the final ship, things went sour.

"Warning. Solar flare spiking in thirty seconds."

Neither of them had heard this before.

"Oh, shit! Get out of here!" King screamed, and engaged his cruise drive, as Amelia followed suit. Three seconds and they were at 300m/s. Amelia poured more power from her shields into her engines, knowing that the flare would kill her even if the ship withstood it. She saw a massive dragon-like flare erupt from the sun behind her. Only thing was, it was just a wall of fire, not one of those over-done dragon heads that she saw in computer games.

"Uhh... King"  
"Ugh, this isn't gonna be pretty. Even if we outrun it, the residual heat will continue on and probably scorch our engines. Come on, kill your shields. They won't help here."

Amelia did as she was told and stopped all shield regeneration and then poured the power from her shield to her engines. 600 m/s.

The flare was closing fast. She launched a countermeasure and watched how long it took before it was swallowed up by the incoming flare.

Ten seconds.

That wasn't bad but it wasn't good either. She steered towards Manhattan, which was only twenty K away. She gunned her engines to the point where they would overheat should they be further overpowered. King followed suit, and soon enough the flare dissapated... but they knew that they'd have to be fast to outrun the heat flare. In the rear vision monitor she saw the heat distortion, and the explosion of a transport who got a little too close to the heatwave. Funnily enough it was carrying niobium, and since she was close enough to it she tractored what she could up. She was such an opportunist, but she knew when and when not to take chances. Three K away, Manhattan loomed ahead, an opal on the permanent night of space. Two K... The heat began to shoot up her engines. One of the three engines stalled momentarily... but, on cue, the heatwave began to retreat.

"This is Amelia Oxedis, Freelancer Kappa Fifteen-dash-five. I need to dock urgently."

A robotic voice responded.

"Affirmative, Kappa Fifteen-dash-Five. You have received priority clearance. A message has been left for you to visit The Shanty Bar."

"Confirmed, initating landing sequence."

A quick docking and visit to the commodity dealer with her 30 metric tonnes of Niobium (which gained her a couple thousand quick bucks) saw her on the way to the nearby tavern, just across the "street" to the one where she'd met King and Trent. Street, meaning "the next space-scraping building behind the first".

King was not present - he'd had a couple wounds where the pressure started to leak and a valve popped off its socket, smacking him in the elbow after ricocheting off his knee.

She noticed the same black-clad dark-complexion man sitting on one of the corner benches opposite some aliens in strange liquid. The aliens were long since dead, though. He noticed her arrival and beckoned her to sit down with him.

Avoiding suspicious gazes she just walked casually one way and then back another, as if just looking around. She soon reached the man in the corner and sat down.

"Good evening... you must be Amelia Oxedis"  
"Yes, indeed. Who are you"  
"I am Orillion, the leader of the Order"  
"Really? Wow. What do you need from me"  
"You have only just started piloting but you are exceptional. Better than most of the trained pilots I know, and I'd bet if you had to fight Trent you'd probably win. So I have a proposition.  
"A couple days ago, something happened in the edge worlds, pretty close to the Hispanian capital of New Madrid. A group of Outcasts reported a large amount of radiation around the newest Omicron system, which we have yet to name, connected to Omicron Chi. We need someone who is willing and able to enter the system, and look for some key objectives including possible Nomad presence. You will be paid a total sum of ten million credits for this and you will have a ship and weapons bought for you. Whatever you need, we'll give you. We have rumours that the Errads are in the system already, but they're friendly so it doesn't really matter. They'll help with the Nomads if there are any"  
"You say this as if it is nothing... but I know from experience and Trent's stories of the war forty years ago that it's more than that"  
"Indeed, but we have more than enough in terms of weapons and supplies. All you need to do is get in there, scout around, and come back with anything you need. The Order base in the system is functional but has yet to be populated. We're sending in the first fifty crew members when you finish the mission, should you take it"  
"OK, fine."

Orillion stood up slowly. He was almost seventy now, but because of Cryer's successful remake of Cardamine, almost everyone in Sirius had had their life expectancy almost tripled - King was an old man as well - but still fighting, acting, looking and piloting like he was still a teen, as were most Nomad war veterans who'd stayed alive for ten years after the war, long enough to get on "Cardayours", the mock-drug that Cryer had produced. It had put the Outcasts out of the smuggling trade, hence their new mercenary ways and the alliance with the Corsairs to make the United Hispania Forces and the Hispania Express - two factions who had sprung up only tewnty years after the Nomad Wars.

"We can't go through Kepler anymore, after the dark matter storm that occurred a couple days ago. Thankfully, LSF patrols have found a jump hole straight from Colorado to Shikoku, and have got a good trade lane up and going from the former Kepler gate to the jump hole," Orillion began explaining how to get to the Omicron systems. "From there we go straight to Sigma 15, then Omicron Minor. The ship dealers on Toledo have access to just about every single ship in Sirius including the Firefeeder, a prototype Erradicator VHF. Then from there to Omicron Major where, stocked up by Colonel Trent, are the best weapons that money can buy. After that we head straight to the unknown system"  
"Sounds good," Amelia said hopefully, and got up to follow Orillion to the docking bay.

"Just keep in formation with me, and you won't have to do anything. Nothing should attack us, even Xenos. Just stick with me," Orillion spoke again once they were on the landing platform.

Amelia had just gotten herself way too deep into the Order's war against Nomads.


	3. A Changed Galaxy

-- Chapter II - A Changed Galaxy --

Sirius had undergone some "changes" since the Nomad wars - for one, there were about fifty new systems colonised, several renamed, factions, technology and everything else. For one, there were over fifty thousand freelancers prowling the Sirius sector, piloting ships such as the new Pelican, a civilian freighter, among hundreds of new ship designs and classes.

Of course, there was the long-overdue dark matter storms in Kepler, Galileo, Colorado and Shikoku wiping out the jump gates but creating jump holes to systems such as Omicrons Mu and Nu, twin systems which were previously almost inaccessible. Deposits of uranium, plutonium and many other precious minerals including over three hundred elements had been discovered - and H-Fuel has almost become obsolete with new S-fuel, based on a sulfur istope instead of hydrogen.

And there were the criminals. Almost every criminal faction in Sirius had by then developed one heavy fighter, a medium fighter and everything in between to aid their attacks on the colonies.

The Xenos were the standouts. Four fighters had been developed based on the original Starflier design now obsolete due to the new Raven Light Fighter, below the Hawk as a favourite among freelancers due to its insane manoeuvrability. Also, almost impossibly, the Corsairs have since developed an even stronger version of the Titan, adding armour and manouevrability to an already excellent package. The Epee, a new Outcast medium fighter, was now beginning to shadow the heavily overused Eagles and Sabres that most freelancers used to use because of its excellent firepower, despite not as powerful as Eagles or even Stilettos. Also, a new faction, the Erradicators, as known until the true name of Nomads is translated, has sprung up as a second Order, like the Bounty Hunters to house police forces. The Order provides the shelter, they provide the training and equipment.

Erradicator, or Errad as they are often referred to, were expert pilots and designed new weapons such as electron, positronic, slag, phaze and strike torpedoes, and specialty shields such as the Champion 3, which was specially designed to soak up what the Champion 1 only had a slight advantage against at the cost of a more glaring weakness to other weapons.

Humans in Sirius were in a golden age and it seemed like it would last forever.

Until the Unknown incident.

"How long till we reach Toledo?" Amelia opened the comm channel again. Only two hours ago, she'd outrun a solar flare. Soon after, she and Orillion had been attacked by ten lane hackers in heavy fighters, and had her first Nomad encounter as they passed through Sigma-21 to get to Toledo since the direct hole from Sigma 15 hadn't been stable enough. Nomads were a known pest around that area but what they'd encountered was worse than usual.

Three gunboats and ten fighters, all a purple-blue colour, decloaked in a veil of pink smoke just as seven Errad Demons (a new heavy fighter), Orillion's Ra VHF and Amelia's almost brand-new (she'd owned it for two hours) Patriot approached. The hole was in one of the darkest places known to man - the Silicon Cloud near Freeport Three in Sigma-15.

"Crap! Amelia, evade the fire. Your guns won't do anything," Orillion yelloed over the comm channel.  
"He's right madam, you'd best let us handle these guys. If something comes off them, tractor it up - hopefully you'll get something good," the Errad wing leader spoke. He was known only by his codename Bravo, and had been recruited by the Errad when being a Hessian was too slow and boring.  
"OK, shall do"  
"Boys, keep your fingers off the "tractor" button. We got someone who wants the loot," Bravo said with a smile.

The Errad wing swooped down, carving a deadly arc of red slag and strike torpedoes aimed at the gunboats. Seconds passed and none had been hit - the Nomad force was reduced to a smouldering mass of purple. Amelia smacked down the "Tractor" button, and managed to snag several weapons, some of which actually mountable by her humble Patriot. She looked through her cargo readout and noted two weapons tagged, 'Nomad Slag 10' in her hold, and after the computer assessed the value, her Freelancer rank climbed from three to sixty-eight in seconds. The Slag weapon was worth twenty million credits - and she had two of them tied up in her hold!

"Not long. It's only ten kay away," Bravo responded and Orillion said almost the exact same thing seconds later. Amelia laughed, and soon the planet was in view. She docked without further adieu, and raced to the ship dealer.

The ship dealer here was obviously Outcast, as he had the inhaler and held what looked like a bag of cardamine in his pocket.

"Aah, you're Amelia. Orillion said you'd be coming. We got just about everything here that you'd need in terms of ships," the dealer spoke. He was wearing the same black two-piece long-sleeved jacket and trousers that most Order operatives wore. His entire head was shaved including half an ear, and his right eye was almost completely missing, all bar the eyelid which was covered by a black leather patch. He was about two and a half metres tall, almost the exact opposite of the dealer on Manhattan.

When he saw what was in Amelia's cargo bay, he tripped over himself.

"Two Nomad Slag Tens and a Phaze Five? Wow, that's amazing! Slag Tens are possibly the rarest Nomad weapons around and you got two of them. The Phaze weapons sell for heaps as well. I'll take the Phaze and give you ten million for it, eh?"

"Sure... I don't care. I need the most manouevurable elite fighter that there is. Preferably a very heavy fighter."

"You want a Firefeeder. It's an Errad ship which is as fast and manoeuvrable as a Drake and has better armour than the Deity, the Corsair Ultra Heavy Fighter."

"OK, I'll take it. Could you do me a favour and mount those Slag weapons for me?"

"Sure. It's done."

Amelia had never seen such a lively Outcast in her life. Not that she'd seen many, but those that she'd seen were more likely to have grabbed her and eaten her alive than had pleasant conversation. Not that that mattered though.

Orillion was waiting for her on the docking pads.

"Toledo has no equipment dealer. You'll get what you need on the Battleship Osiris in Omicron Major. From there we go to Unknown."

"Fair enough. I just want to test these slag weapons though."

"Go ahead, I'm not stopping you."

After launching Amelia steered her ship towards the closest asteroid and sat five hundred metres from it and shot a couple slags. Blue plasma exploded from the barrels of the guns and split the asteroid into two. She noticed it didn't take any power at all.

"These are cool. I can't wait to kill the Nomads."

"After what happened in Sigma-15, don't be surprised if we enter the system and see a complete abyss. Nomads do that to systems. Just look at Omicron Alpha. They destroyed two planets in there when Castile was still known as Omicron Alpha, and the Omicron Alpha we know today was simply called Unknown Alpha. They had to go to the opposite side of the sun to find the planet."

"Oh..."

"We need to wait for the Errad fighters to undock as well as our Order escort. Seven more fighters will be joining us and Colonel Trent will rendezvous with us in Major."

"We're going to the Dyson Sphere?"

"No... It's been renamed to Omicron One. Omicron Major is a new system. Damn these Zoners for insisting that everything is renamed. Oh well, let's get over there. It's a quick flight to the jump hole, but if it's closed we'll need to go back through the Sigmas again and enter via Omega-43. Come on, let's be off. Our escorts are nearly here."

"Miss Oxedis, Orillion. This is Order Phi Six. We're here to escort you to Omicron Major," said the Order wing leader. The Errad leader said similar.

"OK, form on me, everyone. Keep radio activity low on the way through the field, we've been picking up strange readings within the Edge nebula."

Amelia punched in the Formation commands before opening a private line to the Errad leader.

"Hey, Bravo. What's with all the ships? Surely only twenty kay to a jump hole isn't that risky!"

"Orillion is paranoid about the Nomads. Our scouts came in with a report from Unknown Omicron that there were some serious energy surges in the system a couple days ago, when the Battleship Cairo stopped sending patrols around Kappa. I kinda have a hunch something went sour in there, so I'll be backing you up whether our leader likes it or not. I know you're a good pilot, because those Nomads in '15 would have owned most rookies-in-Patriots. Then again, you aren't a rookie, are you?"

"I do professional jetbike racing on Manhattan. That's about it."

"It could be that. Jetbikes and fighters have a lot in common."

As she closed the link, she noticed in her rear vision a patch that was noticably lighter than the rest of the sewage-green cloud, almost turquoise.

"Orillion, check your six. There's something following us, I think," Amelia spoke.

"Sure does look like it. Keep on your toes."

Words of approval came over the comm, as the jump hole came into view.

Or would have, if a certain something hadn't decloaked in front of the hole.

A great purple-and-blue behemoth barred the jump hole. It was definitely not a battleship, it was much too large.

Indeed, it was a Nomad ship.

But when the heck did Nomads have access to something that was only used by the Nomads in the Nomad Wars?

The turquoise patch behind them began to grow larger until the pilots could note its shape. Black weapons mounted on two incredibly large prongs which curved over from the back to the front, dwarfing the Firefeeders that the Errad and Amelia were flying. They were a remarkably similar design, except of course they were turquoise instead of the Errad's customary red colour.

"Aah, shit! That's a nomad behemoth! Take out its turrets and make sure you don't get hit by the antimatter mines!" Bravo blurted angrily.

The ship looked like a very much oversized Clydesdale, except covered in turrets and about one hundred times larger.

Said antimatter mines were a package of compressed dark matter which, on impact, decompressed, creating a vacuum. Kinda like a miniature black hole, only it wore out after a couple seconds. However, contact with one was instant death - anything passing though it would have all its atoms separated and then scattered everywhere. Not pretty or painless.

The battleship started firing madly, launching fifty rounds per second at least.

Amelia banked hard left as a swarm of sixteen nomad interceptors decloaked in front of her, firing equally as madly. Eight were on her tail, and soon enough her shields began to show signs of fading. No-one was speaking - either they were too tense or preoccupied with the "Shield Battery" button. One nomad got caught in between a dogfight between Orillion and one of the new arrivals and ended up spinning wildly into another of the pursuers.

Amelia cut her engines again, leaving two fingers on each of the strafe buttons. Confident she wasn't about to carve her signature on an asteroid, she spun her ship around, still in full drift and started blasting the nomads with her new slag weapons. Once their brains (if they had any) registered that their target was shooting them, they began to evade the shots - just as Amelia destroyed five all in a row. That was seven down and one to go - make that none, thanks to Bravo, who'd appeared out of nowhere.

"Sixteen nomads, all dead in seconds. Now for the behemoth! All fighters, engage!"

Somehow every single ship had survived the barrage from the behemoth with no trouble at all. Bravo's wing began unloading their signature Strike Torpedoes into its hull casing.

Orillion and his Order ships began taking out the turrets, with only three fighters losing more than half their shields. Amelia carved a deep crack in the middle of the ship while the other fighters danced around it, shooting, rocketing, torpedoing and mining, all the while using their Wasps to destroy whatever antimatter mines came near.

Soon the behemoth began to fault - it split in two.

What was amazing, however, was that when it split, there were decks and bays visible as well as something that looked like a Rheinland Battleship reactor core right in the middle, which broke free.

"Tractor that up, Amelia! Get it before it explodes!" Orillion yelled over the comm channel.

"OK, done. I got some more weapons as well," she responded once she was sure that it was secure in her cargo bay.

"Excellent work. Take point through the jump hole and hope the Nomads don't rape us as we exit the hole. Trent should be on the other side," the Order wing leader spoke.

"OK, everyone formed on me?"

A couple nods and "yes"es was all she needed.

"Commence docking..."

The hole was stable, which was a relief. Soon enough they shot out the other side into a purple cloud, similar to those in Shikoku that VIPs loved to just stare at all day long (which Amelia found rather boring, and she was sure that most other people did as well).

She was greeted with a new set of friendly signals as well as the Errad and Order wings. Orillion was behind her. All was well...

And there was that turquoise cloud again.

"Bring up your advanced scanners, people. Trent isn't here yet, I've sent him a message and he'll be here in about three minutes," Orillion ordered as he checked his contacts list.

"Why the advanced scanners though? Won't we see Trent on regular scanners?" Bravo's right-hand man asked.

"It's not that. Just bring them up."

Sure enough, they brought up their advanced cloak-detecting scanners and they found out the identity of the turquoise cloud.

It was not labelled but it was indeed a ship, although neither Nomad or Human.

Bravo opened a private channel to Orillion.

"Orillion... do you see what I see? I think I know what that is!"

"Daun Cavasche," were the only two words he said before being hailed by a different vessel, this time on three-kay channel.

"Hey, guys! Edison Trent, Freelancer Alpha One-dash-one, here to escort you to the Battleship Tutankhamun."

"Hello, Mr. Trent. Who is your company?" Amelia was quick to ask.

"My company? The leader of the Erradicators," Trent spoke sassily.

"Who's that?"

"Jun'ko Zane." 


	4. Syhoi Patrol

-- Chapter III - Syhoi Patrol -- 

"Yeah, that's all. Thanks for that," Amelia completed her business with Trent and his weapons stockpile. She'd picked up a couple Slag 9s, a Strike Torpedo V launcher, a pair of Jetstream Phaze guns, a Devil 4 (a Nomad-technology Erradicator weapon, which was incredibly powerful) and a Nomadkiller 4 turret, an Erradicator Electron weapon - it shot charged beams to neutralize shields and power systems, and also tracked the enemy to an extent.

Not only that she purchased a Ripper mine and a Wasp Cruise Disruptor to replace her old one, which was pretty beaten up after the recent encounters.

Her mission had been postponed because of the meeting as well.

---

"Unknown vessel! If you understand this message, please state your designation!" Orillion pronounced clearly into the speaker. He set the range to one kay, and all the ships in the area moved in to pick up the frequency.

"I ap... My communicat... were hit... on my w...re. Take me to... and I wi...ain everything," the vessel responded. It formed up on the closest ship and its battered engines began to come alive as the phalanx of ships began moving towards the battleship.

Once on the ship, engineers began not only repairing but also exploring the new ship. Orillion had the loot from the Behemoth taken into the research depots while they waited for the pilot of the vessel to exit their ship.

Indeed, it was a thick turquoise colour, with several engines and six black guns strapped to the prongs, three on each side. Its right prong had been blown off, and three engines were missing.

Soon enough, the ship's pilot stepped out of the cockpit and, after handing the design blueprints over to the Order mechanics to repair the ship, it joined Amelia's group of flying pogies; Orillion, Bravo, the Order wing leader who'd been introduced as Hunter, herself, Trent and Jun'ko.

"Greetings," it said.

The creature was hardly different to a human except for several things. For a start its skin pigment was dark blue, and its head was adorned with a crest that extended over its back. A pair of bony ridges lined the back of its spine, and met at the ribcage. Apart from that, however, it was almost exactly human.

A few nods and "hello"'s were its reply.

"I am Leta Ye, of the Daun Cavasche. I've come to bring you a message," the blue humanoid spoke.

"OK, but this is not the place to convey the message. I will call for a meeting at exactly oh-six-hundred, which is only a short while. We will give you priority clearance and your own private quarters until then," Orillion spoke.

"We, the Daun Cavasche, do know human tendencies and customs, so I understand most of what you say, apart from some colloquial language."

"That's excellent, we'll be able to communicate easily. Just have some R&R for a few hours and then meet us in Meeting Room Three. If there's any hiccups, we will tell you."

"Hiccups?"

"Problems."

"Oh."

---

That was three hours ago, and it was nearly time to head to the meeting. Amelia, after mounting her weapons, walked with Trent to the meeting hall.

"So, Trent... you've been on that new Cryer drug, yes?""Yeah. Why?"  
"You're much older than you look, right?"  
"Uhh... why are we having this conversation?"  
"Because I'm only 21, and by the looks and sounds of things everyone here should have false teeth, no hair and severe arthritis."  
"True. Actually, that's what they all want you to think."  
"Yeah?"  
"The Nomad Wars did more than just overthrow three governments, give rise to the Erradicators and put Sirius in a golden age. It... changed things, and it seems all who had contact with a nomad in one form or another has something messed up with their metabolism. So, technically I am old in years but not in bodily functions. It's really stupid, but Quintaine says that's what's going on."  
"So... I fiddled around with my Slag weapons and the reactor core, so some creepy Nomad metabolism-changing thingy has made my life five times longer? I can live with that."  
"Yeah... like the Cardamine does to the Outcasts."  
"Really? Sounds interesting."  
"Yes."

Soon they were out the front of the meeting room. A chime indicated that it was 6:00 AM, so they forwarded in. The D.C. messenger was already inside and was conversing with Orillion.

Several officials from each of the States, some other major faction reps, as well as Amelia, Bravo, Hunter, Jun'ko Zane, Trent and a couple high-ranking freelancers crowded into the room.

"Welcome, everyone, and I'd like to thank you all for coming," Orillion announced as he stood up to address the committee. "If you are not already familiar, we have the Vice President of the Liberty Government, Mister Bonderille." He gestured to an older man sitting in the third chair from the opposite end on the right side of the table. Nods of approval were his cue to continue.

"The Queen's Daughter herself, Michelle Carina, the Chancellor of Rheinland's chief advisor, Herr Bismark, Shogun Tekashi of Kusari, Don Fernandez of Hispania, Don Cortez of the Outcasts, Chief Elder DeJesus of the Corsairs, the President of Bowex, Mister McInnes, the head of the Erradicators, Jun'ko Zane, top freelancers Trent, Psychotic, Zachary Hedlin and Rock, as well as Order Commander Hunter and Erradicator Leftenant, Bravo. As well as those, we have Professor of the Cambridge University, Kendra Sinclair and next to me is Amelia Oxedis. To the right is a special guest of ours," he continued, only pausing once for a breath and gesturing to each as he spoke. Leta Ye stood and made his way to the front of the room.

"Leta Ye, a messenger from the Daun Cavasche," Orillion finished.

Leta Ye, by then, was at the front of the room. His soft, clear voice filled the room.

"Greetings, all," he started. Nods and whispers were what he got in response.

"I bring disturbing news from the Daun Cavasche and the system you call Omicron Unknown." A hush filled the room as he continued, for the lights dimmed and the screen behind him illuminated.

"As you are aware, fifty years ago, Edison Trent acrivated the Hyper Gates to rid Sirius of their menace. However, this did not work as you had planned. Not only did they find a solid foothold in the system they were sent to, but they also found a whole string of systems, one leading to the far side of Omicron Unknown. They knew you'd eventually find the system and exploit its rich resources. So they constructed a second, smaller Dyson Sphere and fabricated an incredible hologram projector to make it look like a planet. Within this planet they began to construct a giant fleet and a superweapon."

"Superweapon?" Orillion asked.

"Yes, a superweapon. I believe you, Miss Oxedis, and your escorts aw a new Nomad ship in the system you call Omicron Minor," Leta said, and a nod from Bravo, Hunter, Orillion and Amelia was his cue to continue. "Well, that was one thing that the Nomads created within the sphere. Did any of you get hit by its weapons or mines?" Leta paused again, and shaking of heads told him to continue again. "Those weapons, had they hit you, would have killed you. That behemoth you saw was a battleship killer. In fact, the reactor core you found inside it will help both us and you to create a counter-battleship"  
Trent turned to his right and saw Psychotic.

"Yo, Psy, you think this will push us into another war?" Trent whispered.

"It probably will," came Psychotic's reply. He was Spanish and gave up pirating with the Corsairs for freelancing.

"I have heard that you, Amelia, are going on a patrol into Omicron Unknown, correct?"

"Yes... why?"

"It would seem I have done the patrol for you. And this is what I managed to get pictures of while in that system."

Several pictures began flicking on and off the screen. The first was a jump hole, which was, in a way, spazzing out. The second showed six turquoise ships, which meant seven Daun Cavasche ships were in the system at the time. Both were taken within a deep orange-red cloud around a strange jump hole.

The third came up, this time showing hundreds of nomads pouring out of the jump hole, and the fourth showed the ships engaging them. It was obvious that the Nomads had either rebelled from their masters or they were never created by the Daun Cavasche in the first place.

The fifth was later on, with four damaged fighters limping away from the fight scene with nomads on their rear ends.

The sixth flickered onto the screen, and showed the Battleship Cairo in view and ten Order ships attacking the Nomads. This time the three remaining ships were attacking the Nomads again and Leta Ye's damaged cockpit.

The seventh shot was the most horrendous yet. It was a picture of a planet exploding and an incredible beam of energy decimating the Battleship Cairo.

The eighth and final one was worse. This time it was from the edge of another nebula, this time one of a bloody red. It showed a mass of purple swarming the remains of the planet and the remains of the Battleship Cairo - a piece of charred metal.

Awe was all that the representatives, freelancers and random blow-ins could see. Three people were standing at the door while a further dozen or so were standing at the back of the room. These guys and girls had strolled in accidentally but stayed to watch the slide show.

Several minutes of silence followed.

Leta broke the silence. "There's more. I managed to retrieve the manifest, seeing as it somehow remained intact."

Although he didn't seem to be wearing anything, he put his hand in what seemed like a pocket and pulled out a small disc.

Orillion took the disc and placed it into his datapad, which he then hooked up to the sound system. He selected "Recordings" and selected the time and "Bridge" from the menu on his pad.

"...that. I've got multiple incoming contacts. Not Order, Nomad or otherwise... they are cloaked, but have actual pilots, as shown by our initial scans. They're carrying very odd weapons..." That was a woman's voice.

"Do not engage yet. Look..." This time it was an older man's voice, one that Orillion confirmed belonged to a commander called Syhoi.

"Launch two wings of Order fighters to assist them. If the unknown vessels attack, launch another to destroy them." That was Syhoi again.

Background noise including a klaxon and shouting followed before Syhoi spoke a third time.

"Unknown craft, this is The Order Battleship Cairo. Please state your designation."

Next was a garbled message, which Leta Ye said was his own to the battleship.

"I ... Leta Ye, ... Daun Cav... Nomads have attack... my communications are dama... I need to dock..."

"Enhance that." Syhoi again.

The message repeated itself but much clearer.

"I am Leta Ye, an emissary of the Daun Cavasche. The nomads have attacked us, and my communications are damaged. I need to dock for repairs..."

"I hear you. Dock, and my mechanics will do what we can for your ship. You'll have to decloak first though." Syhoi spoke once more.

"My ship is decloaked, but it gives no readings to regular sensors. It... No, my communications have died --" Leta spoke again.

"I was still a ways out then, but this is when the planet exploded," Leta explained to the committee.

Then, almost all at the same time,  
"Shit, that planet just exploded"  
"Ack, what was that sound"  
"Communications are down"  
"Evacuate the battleship"  
"Incoming"  
"Hull breach"  
"The reactor just exploded"  
"All pilots get out of the ship at once"  
"This is Commander Syh--"

Static was all that followed.

Again, silence followed. This time, though, Orillion was the one to break it.

"So, if your pictures and the manifest have told a true story... then we are up against a much larger threat than we first anticipated.  
"Any comments or questions?"

All raised their hands.

Bonderille was first to get the floor.

"Does this mean that we are on the brink of a second war"  
"I'm afraid so, sir," Orillion responded.

Most of those in the room lowered their hands.

Amelia spoke next.

"So... how are we supposed to fight such a menace? I'm sure that the houses will need people to protect their own turf as well as the criminals doing the same," Amelia nodded at the Corsair and Outcast representatives.

"We do not pirate any longer, that is why we are here," the Don spoke, obviously high on Cardamine. His words were slurred and his eyes bloodshot.

Bravo rose from his seat. Being an Erradicator and therefore acknowledged by all, he hoped to talk the differences out of the parties within the room.

"With all due respect to all here, I'd request that you lay down your differences and take up arms against the nomads."

"We might be able to. In fact, the Outcasts and Corsairs are allied to several criminal factions including the Rogues and Hackers. They should be able to convince them to assist," Rock suggested. He had hardly been noticed all through the meeting, so the small team jumped slightly at his suggestion.

"Good point. Also, I've got a good reputation with the Xenos and, strange as it seems, the Kusari criminals and the Mollys. I can try to get their support," Psychotic added.

"Excellent. Kendra, how is the research on the Nomad Reactor going?" Orillion asked.

"It is a tough nut to crack but we're making progress," Sinclair replied promptly.

Bravo turned to Leta Ye. "Leta, can you get to your home system by yourself?"

"I can, but I'm sure the elders would like to meet you. Most of the Daun Cavasche know how to speak your tongue, so things will not be difficult in terms of communication. Orillion, I would like you, Miss Oxedis, Miss Zane and Mister Trent to accompany me back to our home world. We will not be going via the Unknown system, instead we will go through the High Omegas and then into the Zeta systems. Although going through the Unknown system is faster and takes us to Zeta-47, the nomads do not know of the long way around to our home system."

"Alright, fine," Trent agreed.  
"Done," Jun'ko was unusually quiet.  
"Yeah, I'll help out," Amelia said, and Orillion simply nodded.  
"Do you guys mind if myself, Bravo and Hunter go with you?" Psychotic asked Leta Ye, nodding at the two high-rankers.

"You may, if you wish. I was intending to ask Bravo and his wing of fighters to help anyway, because there's been a lot of Nomad activity in systems that they originally should have had no idea they existed, based on their patrol routes.

Leta Ye walked out the door, and his company slowly followed him to the docking bay.

Soon enough, Bravo's new wing of six Firefeeders and three Demons were out in open space awaiting the arrival of Hunter's wing of six Ra fighters, Orillion, Amelia, Trent, Jun'ko and Psychotic to undock. The two docking bays opened again and three Order fighters came from each, followed by several souped-up fighters of Firefeeder, Ra and Albatross decent. To be specific, Trent, Amelia, Jun'ko, Bravo and most of his wing were piloting the Firefeeders, Orillion, Hunter and his wing piloting Ra fighters, and Psychotic being a rebel with the Eagle-on-steroids, the Albatross. Last to undock was the Daun Cavasche, Leta Ye.

All twenty-one ships departed from Omicron Major in the southern Jump Hole to Omega-45.

Leta Ye was on the point of the formation, and all were just conversing with each other. No complications overshadowed their journey through Omegas 43 and 45, and then the successful jump into Zeta-47 - a neutral system which was not supposed to be known about by the Nomads according to Ye's intel.

The twenty-one ships all appeared in the system, and twenty pilots looked around in awe.

The sky was a pitch black, except for the few specks of stars dotting the starscape. What was amazing, though, was the ring of ominous blue and green surrounding them, and what looked like a whirlwind of grey cloud into the black hole at the far side of the system.

It was a strangely eerie but incredibly beautiful at the same time.

"The Zeta systems are full of sights like this," Leta Ye broke the silence and punched in co-ordinates to the jump hole to Zeta-77.

"The next system is full of Nomads but they won't bother us until we're in open space," he said, engaging cruise to the next destination.

Or would have, had an entire nomad fleet not decloaked in front of him.


	5. Middle of Nowhere

-- Chapter IV - Middle of Nowhere --

"Shit! All fighters, engage all enemy ships! I see thirty-six Nomad Interceptors, and more decloaking by the second!" Trent screamed, and Psychotic shifted in his seat. Orillion killed his engines but did not move, Amelia backing up and charging her weapons. Bravo's wing manoeuvred around the left flank while Hunter's wing did the same on the right side.

"All fighters, engage! Hold nothing back!"

And then the fireworks began.

Fifty-two Nomad Interceptors, ten Gunboats, several battleships and a behemoth as well as three even newer ships, which Leta Ye labelled as "Nomad Destroyers" (again, Amelia thought this was very original) which looked like bent pitchforks started firing on the (in comparison) tiny group.

Amelia managed to pick up a couple unfriendly friends on her tail, which she promptly told off with help of a Ripper mine.

"Suck on that, bastard Nomads!"

A gunboat loomed ahead. It started shooting at her, but the clumsy oversized beast kept missing. Three Striker Torpedoes and a couple blasts later, it was nothing more than a bad memory and she had another Nomad weapon in her hold. This time it was an older weapon, a simple Nomad Energy Cannon, only worth a couple thousand.

Delta 2 (Bravo's second-in-command) was having a bit more trouble. Somehow he'd been hit by one of the Behemoth's weapons and had lost the wing that his striker torpedo mounts were on.

"Shields failed," the online computer spoke.  
"Shut up!" he screamed and punched the mine launcher again.  
"Wing lost," the online computer spoke again.  
"Hull breach imminent," the computer spoke a third time.  
"Hull breach imminent," Delta 2 copied in that annoying voice that he liked using, and punched the nanobot and shield battery buttons at the same time.

"Shield restored," the computer confirmed.

"Damned Nomads!" he screamed, and began shooting wildly at the nearest ship, which happened to be a battleship. Fifteen rounds from Delta's slag-7 and it was beginning to fall apart - and two Strike Torpedoes, not his own, finished it off.

"Thought you needed a hand, Delta 2!" Psychotic laughed, and went in pursuit of a gunboat.

"Thanks, I guess," Delta 2 responded.

Orillion and Hunter's wing were tearing through the nomads on the right flank like there was no tomorrow. Their weapons were especially designed to annihilate any and all solid matter, namely, fifteen Nomad Interceptors, two battleships, a Destroyer and three gunboats.

"Ach, Hunter! I'm out of nanobots and my shield just failed! Help me out here!" This came from his third wing member.

"Get to a safe distance, and I'll give you some when we get out of this mess!" he said, but too late. His third wing member's ship was destroyed seconds later, but the pilot had managed to get to his escape pod, which Hunter promptly tractored up.

The pod clattered into his cargo bay successfully. Hunter quickly checked the readings which showed that the occupant was alive and well, albeit shocked.

"You get him?" Orillion asked over the comm.  
"Yeah, he's safe with me," Hunter responded, then opened a group channel. "All Order fighters, enter loose formation and target the Behemoth. The Errads are taking heavy fire from it"  
"Formed," came the transmissions.

"Load your torpedoes. Five each on the Behemoth and then blast it to Kingdom come!"

"Roger," came the numerous transmissions again.

They decended upon the behemoth, fingers poised on the trigger...

Then it exploded.

"What?" Orillion was in shock - what had killed it?

"Hah, Daun Cavasche ARE good pilots!" Amelia was heard to say.

Leta Ye's ship was spiralling wildly all over the shop, twenty-two Nomad interceptors on his tail. He cut his engines and then performed an inside loop, and then annihilated seventeen of them. Suddenly, the hunters became the hunted.

Now all that was left were two destroyers and a battleship.

"Order vessels, take the right Destroyer, Errad take the left. All others take the battleship! Charge!" Trent barked another command.

Ten seconds passed and twenty-one ships were back out in open space. Order Three's ship had been repaired, and the jump hole was up ahead.

"Prepare to die, people," Psychotic joked, and punched in the docking sequences. "Form on me," he spoke as his ship began to move slowly forward into the jump hole...

And into the most stunning sight they had ever seen.

The system before them was incredible. A bright red nebula stretched from three hundred metres away all the way around the system, and a planet that could fit most of New York inside it dominiated the middle of the system. A green sun loomed hundreds of thousands of kilometres away, its light barely illumiating the planet's surface.

And then, to top it all off, ahead was the largest fight they'd ever seen.

Hundreds of Daun Cavasche ships, a similar number of Outcasts and Corsairs, and, funnily enough, some Erradicators.

"My Errads go wherever they please to find, hunt, and kill Nomads," Trent recalled Jun'ko saying to him a couple weeks ago.

What had happened after that, though, he didn't know. Jun'ko suddenly became reclusive and very quiet. Not only this but her commanding and piloting skills took a rather large dip as well.

As he was thinking about what she'd told him, he noticed something strange on the contacts list, but couldn't place it. For a start there were all the ships ahead. They were shooting at blank space, not each other like they might have been. Second, the planet just exploded. Third, the -- hang on, the planet just exploded?

Trent looked in amazement as the planet ahead of him shattered, particles of molten rock and ice jetting into space.

"Uhh... guys! What's going on?" he asked alarmedly. "Guys?"

He checked his contacts list.

Nothing. That was the third thing he noticed. The ships in front of him were not on the contacts list and nor were his wingmates who were right next to him.

The ships shattered in the same way the planet did, and, weirdly enough, so did the nebula.

And everything around him.

Including his ship.

And his body.

Trent sat up, gasping. He'd fallen asleep by the looks of things, and was probably woken up by Psychotic's annoyed voice screaming through the comm.

"Trent, you piece of lazy shit! Get up! We got unidentified contacts incoming, possibly Nomads!"

"What --?"

Then they appeared. Two ships. Two lonely intercepters. Nothing no-one couldn't handle. Since the nomad war, every single pilot in Sirius had been given instructions on how to fight a nomad should one appear.

Two was nothing for even the newest of LSF recruits. A lone Rheinlander had destroyed two battleships in his top-o'-the-morning Banshee. A semi-experienced freelancer in a Dromedary took out three. They were child's play nowadays.

But this seemed strange. Two ships? Surely the nomads could do better than that. There were no cloaked ships nearby. These two were alone.

Not only that, they weren't even firing. Just on a straight course. A cruise disrupter cut both of their dead engines. No response.

"This is strange. I say we blast them out of the sky," suggested Psychotic.

What happened next would likely stick in the minds of just about all twenty-one pilots. The closest Nomad fighter imploded in a ball of blue fire, leaving a small metal box in its wake; the second did the same.

"Psychotic, tractor them up and see what they've got inside. It's not nomad or explosive, I'll give you that," Trent suggested.

"OK, I got them. Let's see. They're in deep freeze, that's for sure. By the looks of things on the scan, it's..." Psychotic paused.

"Yes, Psy?" Amelia asked.

"Human life. Only thing is, it's been mangled. The limbs are separate," Psychotic moaned - almost whimpered. "I'll see what's inside."

Psychotic rose from his pilot's seat and entered the hold. Sure enough, in the corner were, apart from his nomad weapons he'd found, two metal boxes about two metres long by half a metre wide. To the touch they were cold, and obviously freeze-packed.

He lifted the lid, and screamed. 


End file.
